


A Non-Marriage of Convenience

by vertual



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Absolutely nothing else, F/M, Just cuddling and chatting, Toby is there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:26:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8569561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vertual/pseuds/vertual
Summary: A change of name is like a change of brand: inconvenient and impractical for the professional. It stood to reason they would make such a decision.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking for a very long time that if Molly Hooper is published, she would be unlikely to assume her partner's name because of the professional rebranding that it would require. Hence this scribble.

Twenty-three months, seven days, two hours. The only reason she cares to count it out is because she knows he has. If each day were a mental step forward, he would mark the important events with a little X in the sand, noting the time and place where it happened. The ones he decides are no longer important are filled in when a wave comes to even out the sand, and the ones that remain important are built up with sticks and small rocks so they can’t be washed away. At least, that’s how she imagines his mind works. It’s a pretty picture but for all she knows it could be an entirely wrong one.

It’s been too long since she’s felt this cozy. The silence of snow falling in past the streetlamps, the grey dark outside the empty building, the orange heat of the fire, the blanket wrapped snugly around her and the other body inside with her.... She feels spoiled to be so comfortable. They sit on the floor in front of the fire, she leaning back into him and he with his arms around her, holding the blanket around the pair of them like some kind of cocoon. Their conversations have been sparse, but they don’t need to talk. She can hear his steady breathing behind her, and she is more than happy to sit and enjoy the warmth.

Sixteen months and eleven days, if she’s counting right. She can’t quite remember that one. The important part of it is the sixteen months, anyway. Or maybe the most important part is what came four months and thirteen days later. Four and a half months that they’d been thinking about it or pretending to think about it or not thinking about it at all, and twelve months ago was when they actually got on the same page.

“Sherlock,” she says quietly, so she doesn’t damage the bubble of peace they’ve made. Toby’s ears perk up where he snoozes a few feet away, a little closer to the fire. She sometimes wishes she could switch places with the cat if only to get away from the stresses of being human.

Sherlock’s response is a hum to say he’s listening. He’s calm. Probably most of the way to dropping off to sleep.

“Do you want to marry me?”

She expects him to stiffen but instead she hears a little sigh. She can feel his voice in her rib cage when he speaks. “I would like to, but I agreed then and I agree now, it’s needless.”

“I know, but...”

“Molly, please. You can’t assume my name because it would create difficulties for you as a professional. You’re published, your name is your brand, end of story. It would have gone the same way had I opted to assume yours.”

A light snort escapes her at the thought. “Sherlock Hooper.”

“I only regret thinking I could get away with doing one traditional thing in life.”

Molly shifts herself to more or less face Sherlock, pleased to be met with a gentle smile, one reserved only for those he loves dearly. “Tell me again about marriage being needless.”

“Well,” he says, “we won’t share a name, that much is obvious. We also won’t be sharing money because Mycroft has made certain my trust deposits are by a monthly percentage and I don’t want him taking anything of yours. Additionally, your frugal nature has warped me so I just cannot see the need to pay for words and then to pay even more to inform everybody we know with a large and stressful event.”

“And I was afraid this conversation would go to hell,” Molly admits with an awkward laugh. She watches Toby stand and stretch, trotting over to take a place on Sherlock’s chair behind them and purring loudly until he dozes off once more.

They fall back into silence and Molly begins running her thumb back and forth over the smooth golden underside of the ring on her finger. It was never really an engagement ring; more a promise, a reminder that she will always be important. To love and be loved in kind. His person, as he likes to say.

She settles a little deeper in the blanket, closing her eyes as she lays her head against Sherlock’s shoulder. In the silence only interrupted by the crackle of the fire, Molly sits with her little family, wondering how she could be so fortunate that they are all she needs to be at home.


End file.
